An online journal of the nightly (and daily) nonsense endured by a (former) bouncer at two of New York's most popular nightclubs.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Whisper

You’ve got this dog, right? And this dog you’ve got keeps taking shits on the rug. He’s shit on the rug so many times that you don’t even bother cleaning the damned thing anymore. You take it outside, shake off his steaming pile of crap, bring it back in and lay it out where it’s always been. And then he shits on it again. And again. And again. And then he barks at you like it’s your fault.

So you rub his nose in shit immediately after he does it again, and he thinks to himself, “Man, this sucks to have my nose rubbed in shit like this. I’ll never do this again.” But the next morning, he shits on the rug again. And you rub his nose in it again, and this time he takes it even harder. He understands the cause-and-effect here. “How could I have been so stupid,” he asks, “to have taken a shit on the rug again? This blows!”

And then he does it again. And gets his nose rubbed in it again. And thinks it sucks again. And forgets again and does the same fucking thing until you drag his sorry ass down to the pound and leave him there to be somebody else’s problem, because who needs a dog that can’t stop shitting on the rug?